From Letter LXXXVII.

By my promise that, in the text of this series of Fors, there shall be “no syllable of complaint, or of scorn,” I pray the reader to understand that I in no wise intimate any change of feeling on my own part. I never felt more difficulty in my life than I do, at this instant, in not lamenting certain things with more than common lament, and in not speaking of certain people with more than common scorn.

Nor is it possible to fulfil these rightly warning functions of Fors without implying some measure of scorn. For instance, in the matter of choice of books, it is impossible to warn my scholars against a book, without implying a certain kind of contempt for it. For I never would warn them against any writer whom I had complete respect for,—however adverse to me, or my work. There are few stronger adversaries to St. George than Voltaire. But my scholars are welcome to read as much of Voltaire as they like. His voice is mighty among the ages. Whereas they are entirely forbidden Miss Martineau,—not beeause she is an infidel, but because she is a vulgar and foolish one.*

Do not say, or think, I am breaking my word in asserting, once for all, with reference to example, this necessary principle. This very vow and law that I have set myself, must be honoured sometimes in the breach of it, so only that the transgression be visibly not wanton or incontinent....

. . .

It can’t be the end of this Fors however, I find, (15th February, half-past seven morning,) for I have forgotten twenty things I meant to say; and this instant, in my morning’s reading, opened and read, being in a dreamy state, and not knowing well what I was doing,—of all things to find a new message!—in the first chapter of Proverbs.

I was in a dreamy state, because I had got a letter about the Thirlmere debate, which was to me, in my proposed quietness, like one of the voices on the hill behind the Princess Pairzael. And she could not hold, without cotton in her ears, dear wise sweet thing. But luckily for me, I have just had help from the Beata Vigri at Venice, who sent me her own picture and St. Catherine’s, yesterday, for a Valentine; and so I can hold on:—only just read this first of Proverbs with me, please.

“The Proverbs of Solomon, the son of David, king of Israel.

“To know wisdom and instruction.”

(Not to ‘opine’ them.)

“To perceive the words of understanding.”

(He that hath eyes, let him read—he that hath ears, hear. And for the Blind and the Deaf,—if patient and silent by the right road-side,—there may also be some one to say ‘He is coming.’)

“To receive the instruction of WISDOM, JUSTICE, and JUDGMENT, and EQUITY.”

Four things,—oh friends,—which you have not only to perceive, but to receive. And the species of these four things, and the origin of their species,—you know them, doubtless, well,—in these scientific days?

“To give subtlety to the simple; to the young man, knowledge and discretion.”

(Did ever one hear, lately, of a young man’s wanting either? Or of a simple person who wished to be subtle? Are not we all subtle—even to the total defeat of our hated antagonists, the Prooshians and Rooshians?)

“A wise man will hear and will increase learning.”

(e.g. “A stormy meeting took place in the Birmingham Town Hall last night. It was convened by the Conservative Association for the purpose of passing a vote of confidence in the Government; but the Liberal Association also issued placards calling upon Liberals to attend. The chair was taken by Mr. Stone, the President of the Conservative Association, but the greater part of his speech was inaudible even upon the platform, owing to the frequent bursts of applause, groans, and Kentish fire, intermingled with comic songs. Flags bearing the words ‘Vote for Bright’ and ‘Vote for Gladstone’ were hoisted, and were torn to pieces by the supporters of the Government. Dr. Sebastian Evans moved, and Alderman Brinsley seconded, a resolution expressing confidence in Her Majesty’s Government. Mr. J. S. Wright moved, and Mr. E. W. Dale seconded, an amendment, but neither speaker could make himself heard; and on the resolution being put to the meeting it was declared carried, but the Liberal speakers disputed the decision of the chairman, and asserted that two-thirds of the meeting were against the resolution.”—Pall Mall Gazette, February 13th, 1878.)

“And a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels.”

(Yes, in due time; but oh me—over what burning marle, and by what sifting of wheat!)

“To understand a proverb, and the interpretation.” (Yes, truly—all this chapter I have known from my mother’s knee—and never understood it till this very hour.)

“The words of the wise and their dark sayings.”

(Behold, this dreamer cometh,—and this is his dream.)

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.”

(e.g. “Herr ——, one of the Socialist leaders, declaring that he and his friends, since they do not fear earthly Powers, are not likely to be afraid of Powers of any other kind.”—Pall Mall Gazette, same date.**)

“My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother.”

The father is to teach the boy’s reason; and the mother, his will. He is to take his father’s word, and to obey his mother’s—look, even to the death.

(Therefore it is that all laws of holy life are called ‘mother-laws’ in Venice.—Fors, 1877, page 26.)

“For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head.”

Alas, yes!—once men were crowned in youth with the gold of their father’s glory; when the hoary head was crowned also in the way of righteousness.

And so they went their way to prison, and to death.

But now, by divine liberty, and general indication, even Solomon’s own head is not crowned by any means.—Fors, 1877, p. 92.

“And chains about thy neck”—(yes, collar of the knightliest. Let not thy mother’s Mercy and Truth forsake thee) bind them about thy neck, write them upon the tables of thine heart. She may forget: yet will not I forget thee.

(Other murderers kill, before they bury;—but YOU, you observe, are invited to bury before you kill. All these things,
when once yon know their meaning, have their physical symbol quite accurately beside them. Read the story of the last explosion in Yorkshire—where a woman’s husband and her seven sons fell—all seven—all eight—together: about the beginning of barley harvest it was, I think.)

“And whole as those that go down into the pit.”

(Other murderers kill the body only, but YOU are invited to kill ‘whole’—body and soul. Yea—and to kill with such wholeness that the creatures shall not even know they ever had a soul, any more than a frog of Egypt. You will not, think you. Ah, but hear yet—for second thoughts are best.)

(ALL precious substance. Is there anything in those houses round the park that could possibly be suggested as wanting?—And spoil,—all taken from the killed people. Have they not sped—have they not divided the spoil—to every man a damsel or two. Not one bit of it all worked for with your own hand,—even so, mother of Sisera.)

“Cast in thy lot among us.”—(The Company is limited.)

“Let us all have one”—(heart? no, for none of us have that;—mind? no, for none of us have that;—but let us all have one—) “purse.” And now—that you know the meaning of it—I write to the end my morning’s reading.

My son, walk not thou in the way with them.

Refrain thy foot from their path. For their feet run to evil, and hasten to shed blood.

Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird.

And they lay wait for their own blood.

They lurk privily for their own lives.

So ARE THE WAYS OF EVERY ONE THAT IS GREEDY OF GAIN WHICH TAKETH AWAY THE LIFE OF THE OWNERS THEREOF.

Now, therefore, let us see what these ways are—the Viæ Peccatorum,—the Pleasantness of them, and the Peace.

The following are portions of a letter from the brother of one of my country friends here, who has been pastor of the English Baptist church in Tredegar about twenty years.

“TREDEGAR, 11th February, 1878.

“Some three hundred men are said to have been discharged from the works last week. The mills are to be closed all this week, and the iron-workers do not expect to be able to earn a penny. About a day and a half per week, on the average, is what they have been working for several months. The average earnings have been six shillings a week, and out of that they have to pay for coal, house-rent, and other expenses, leaving very little for food and clothing. The place has been divided into districts. I have one of these districts to investigate and relieve. In that district there are a hundred and thirty families in distress, and which have been relieved on an average of two shillings per week for each family for the last month. Many of them are some days every week without anything to eat, and with nothing but water to drink: they have nothing but rags to cover them by day, and very little beside their wearing apparel to cover them on their beds at night. They have sold or pawned their furniture, and everything for which they could obtain the smallest sum of money. In fact, they seem to me to be actually starving. In answer to our appeal, we have received about three hundred pounds, and have distributed the greater part of it. We also distributed a large quantity of clothing last week which we had received from different places. We feel increasing anxiety about the future. When we began, we hoped the prospect would soon brighten, and that we should be able before long to discontinue our efforts. Instead of that, however, things look darker than ever. We cannot tell what would become of us if contributions to our funds should now cease to come in, and we do not know how long we may hope that they will continue to come in, and really cannot tell who is to blame, nor what is the remedy.”

They know not at what they stumble. How should they?

Well—will they hear at last then? Has Jael-Atropos at last driven her nail well down through the Helmet of Death he wore instead of the Helmet of Salvation—mother of Sisera?

* I use the word vulgar, here, in its first sense of egoism, not of selfishness, but of not seeing one’s own relations to the universe. Miss Martineau plans a book—afterwards popular—and goes to breakfast, “not knowing what a great thing had been done.” So Mr. Buckle, dying, thinks only—he shall not finish his book. Not at all whether God will ever make up His.

** I take this passage out of an important piece of intelligence of a quite contrary and greatly encouraging kind. “A new political party has just
been added to the many parties which already existed in Germany. It calls itself ‘the Christian Social party.’ It is headed by several prominent Court preachers of Berlin, who, alarmed at the progress made by the Socialists, have taken this means of resisting their subversive doctrines. The object of the party is to convince the people that there can be no true system of government which is not based upon Christianity; and this principle is being elaborately set forth in large and enthusiastic meetings. Herr Most, one of the Socialist leaders, has given the political pastors an excellent text for their orations by declaring that he and his friends, since they do not fear earthly Powers, are not likely to be afraid of Powers of any other kind. Branches of the Christian Socialist party have been formed in several of the most important German towns; and they confidently expect to be able to secure a definite position in the next Imperial Parliament.

Thou who doest right for mortals,—full of blessings,—hearts.
Rejoicing, for thy equity, in mortal righteousness;—
All-honoured, happy-fated, majestic-miened Justice,
Who dost arbitrate, for pure minds, all that ought to be.
Unmoved of countenance thou;—(it is they who shall be moved
That come not under thy yoke,—other always to others,
Driving insatiably oblique the loaded scales.)
Thou,—seditionless, dear to all—lover of revel, and lovely,
Rejoicing in peace, zealous for pureness of life,
(For thou hatest always the More, and rejoicest in equalness,
For in thee the wisdom of virtue readies its noble end.)
Hear, Goddess!—trouble thou justly the mischief of mortals,
So that always in fair equipoise the noble life may travel
Of mortal men that eat the fruit of the furrow,
And of all living creatures, whom nurse in their bosoms
Earth the Goddess mother, and the God of the deep sea.